“Adair will be over to find out soon, or else he won’t,” retorted Glidden crisply. “You know that web of old abandoned sidings and spurs branching out the other side of Maddox?”
“Near Eagle Pass, you mean?”
“Yes. The superintendent thinks the car will be found somewhere on the branches, looted, of course, for the robbers have had hours to handle the booty.”
Nothing but theory, however, resulted from official investigations during the ensuing two days. The following Monday morning the assistant superintendent met Ralph on his way to work. The missing car problem was still unsolved, he told the young railroader.
Adair and his men had explored every spur and siding the entire length of Eagle Pass. Not a trace of the stolen car had been discovered, and the road officer was working on a theory that it might have been run off on connecting private switches onto the Midland Central, and the collusion of important influences exercised.
When Ralph got home that evening he found an old time friend awaiting him. It was Zeph Dallas, just arrived.
“Why, hello!” hailed Ralph heartily, walking into the sitting room where he had spied Zeph. “I’m glad to see you, Zeph--why, what’s the matter?”
Zeph was indeed an object to excite wonderment and attention. His face was about the forlornest that Ralph had ever seen. His eyes were like two holes burned in his head, his clothes were wrinkled as if he had slept in them for a week.
In a limp, hopeless fashion the “boy detective,” all his plumes of ambition sadly trailing in the dust of humiliation and defeat, allowed his hand to rest lifelessly in that of Ralph. His throat choked up with a sob, and his eyes filled with tears.
“Ralph,” he almost whispered, “they’ve fooled me, I’m beaten out.”